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TO   THE   LIGHTJ&t)USE

impossible and yet theic-//going inflicts such a
chill on those who watch them that they always
"try at least to follow them with their eyes as one
follows a .^^^g ship until the sails have sunk
keneatK1 m Srizon.

Ho know- ie looks, how worn she looks, Lily
fstand hohow remote<   Then when she turne(i

any affectio^^ smiiing) it was as if the ship
past eye.r e(j an(j tjle gun j^ struck jts saijs again>
tnmg^jjy tjlougjlt w[fa some amusement because
e<ie was relieved. Why does she pity him? For
that was the impression she gave, when she told
him that his letters were in the hall. Poor William
Bankes, she seemed to be saying, as if her own
weariness had been partly pitying people, and the
life in her, her resolve to live again, had been
stirred by pity. And it was not true, Lily thought;
it was one of those misjudgments of hers that
seemed to be instinctive and to arise from some
need of her own rather than of other people's. He
is not in the least pitiable. He has his work, Lily
said to herself. She remembered, all of a sudden
as if she had found a treasure, that she too had her
work. In a flash she saw her picture, and thought,
Yes, I shall put the tree further in the middle;
then I shall avoid that awkward space. That's
what I shall do. That's what has been puzzling
me. She took up the salt cellar and put it down
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